My attention blurs on the edge of being drunk and delusional. Nope, I'll probably just end up stuck in a cubicle like the rest of us hopeless transplants who come here with big dreams of success.

Pulling me from my thoughts, Tori calls, "Navy, who's your favorite OTP?"

"Han and Leia, Han and Leia," Marc chants.

"Whatever you say, not Bella and Edward." Jenna makes a gagging face.

"Oh, Bella and Edward for the win," Rylee counters.

My blank expression must make an easy translation.

"Wait, my fangirl, the resident book and movie nerd doesn't know what an OTP is?" Kat asks.

Confused, I shake my head. "Over the Top People?" I try weakly, giving Kat a friendly side-eye.

"But you're a reader," she says.

"Shipping?" Tori tries as if that might ring a bell.

I shrug.

Kat puts a drink in my hand. "It's like this, an OTP means One True Pairing. Like two people who absolutely belong together."

"Oh, well, that's easy. Chuck and Blaire. Gossip Girl. The books and show." I quote one of my favorite lines, "Three words, eight letters, say it and I'm yours."

The conversation continues with impassioned arguments for Mulder and Scully, Carson and Mrs. Hughes from Downton Abbey, and the characters from Dirty Dancing whose names we can't remember. Of course, we ask Siri.

We go around, asking each other who we'd ship if we could be with anyone famous, alive or dead.

"I'd do anything to ship Chris Hemsworth," Marc says.

"Either Hemsworth," Tori adds, sighing. "They're masters at dropping the look."

"What look?" I ask.

"The sexy beast look," Kat calls from the kitchen.

"The smolder."

"The one that makes you swoon." Lydia mimics Tori's sigh.

"The one that makes your panties wet," she adds. "The one John Trottman gave me two years ago. I've never looked back."

"No one will ever live up to it."

They go on, talking about this phenomenon.

"I've never been given the look," I squeak.

"Lies!" Kat says, pouring another round of drinks. "The sexy beast so gave you the look."

I shake my head because I refuse to put sexy in the same sentence as Carrick even though my heart beat a little faster when she mentioned him.

Several of the others in the room gather in, intrigued by the conversation. Jake says, "I vote for Rachel and Ross. Best OTP of all time."

Ina says, "No, no, Lucy and Ricky."

"Guys, we've moved on. We're talking about who you'd ship."

"Oh, in that case, Ginny," Harry says, always up for joking about how he shares an admittedly common name with a fictional wizard. However, in his defense, he's British, has dark hair, green eyes, and wears glasses, so it's not entirely a stretch.

"I'm happy," Rylee says, giving her girlfriend a squeeze.

"Aw, you guys are adorable," Lydia says. "Hmm. Who would I ship?" She thinks a minute. "There's this guy at work."

"Fictional!" Kat says.

"Okay, then the Rock."

"Duane Johnson?" Marc asks, surprised.

"He's a big ole hunk of man," Lydia says softly.

Kat smirks. "I never expected you to pick someone so, um, burly."

"Yeah, more like the shy, studious type," I say. "Glasses, a cardigan..."

"Or even someone like our Man-bun-barista," Kat says.

"Who?" Lydia asks.

"This guy at the coffee shop we go to," Kat explains. "Or the bookstore guy."

"He's mine," I say around a hiccup.

"Is he?" Kat asks, lifting her eyebrow.

"Yeah, Navy, why have we never met anyone you date?"

My cheeks are already pink from the copious amounts of alcohol, but I still blush.

"She doesn't date," Kat answers for me.

"Neither do you."

"Nope, she just screws," Tori says.

Everyone laughs, knowing Katya isn't a committer.

"I'm not a dater," I say, navigating my way around the words and the secrets they hold.

"Why?" Don't you want to fall in love?" Ina asks in accented English.

"Our Navybean doesn't play the field. We have to get her out there and then we'll see some magic happen." Kat speaks with affection in her voice, but I take another sip of my drink, deflecting the possibility.

"So who's this guy at the bookstore?" Tori asks.

"I think she called dibs," Marc says.

"Wait, wait, are we trying to hook Navy up?" Leo asks with sudden interest. "Because I know this guy I think would be perfect for her..." His lips quirk and his cheeks turn pink.

"This circle of friends is closed," Kat says. "We'd never want to lose one of you if you broke up or endure the awkwardness afterward. We need an outside pool."

"She needs to find someone herself," Rylee says.

"Guys, I'm here, in the room. Hello. And I'm not interested in dating."

"Why not?" Lydia asks in her sweet, innocent way.

"Because."

"Was your heart broken?" she asks.

For a moment, it's as though it's just the two of us and I want to blurt, Yes! My heart is still broken and I don't know how to fix it, but I keep the words tucked away. Instead, I slur something like, "I want someone who doesn't mind that I like my waffles with cheese. That I'll read until I fall asleep. And who tolerates me waking up with crazy bedhead-"

"Yeah, it gets bad. I remember from freshman year." Tori holds her hands away from her head demonstrating my lumpy, puffy morning mess of hair.

"Let's do something about that," Kat says.

I shake my head. "Don't wanna."

"Tomorrow. The first five guys."

"The first five guys what?" I ask, trying to claw my way from drunkenness and talk her out of whatever plan she's concocted like so many of her strange drinks.

"The first five guys you see. I dare you to date them. You have to give them each a week, at least."

"I double dare you," Tori says.

Triple and quadruple dares echo from around the room.

"Date five guys?" Marc asks. "I can handle two at most."

Kat corrects, "Not all at once, but we need to get her out there. She needs to make it real."

"How is that making it real?" I ask even though I want distance from the conversation.

"You spend so much time fantasizing about your love life," Kat says.

"I do not," I argue. "I want nothing to do with my nonexistent love life."

"Your choice of reading material would beg to differ," Tori says.

"She has a point," Marc adds, glancing toward my room. "I vote for the rainbow arrangement, by the way."

"Yeah, and dating can be fun," Lydia adds.

"No risks," Leo says.

"No strings," Ina states.

"No broken hearts." Kat shakes the ice in her glass and takes the last sip.

"Just. NO," I say.

Chapter 6.

Research and Development I'm usually sensible. Like, always. I should have washed off my makeup and got into bed hours ago. I should be dreaming of my one true love and wake up, bright eyed tomorrow morning with him snoozing by my side.

I shouldn't be drunk off my face with my roommate tonight of all nights. I shouldn't be listening to her thoughts on how I can improve my love life. I should be sleeping.

But I lost my job a couple of months ago and the month before that my turtle died. But Mew probably would have killed it when Katya and I moved in together anyway. The tank stank, but in the end, he had a good life as far as turtles go-one of the tenants in the building moved out and left him in the hall. I couldn't just leave him there. Or her. I never did find out the gender. He was just Turtle and he liked to bite. It wasn't even close to being a love hate relationship. Just the latter. So, I guess I did need friends tonight. Maybe more nights than I allow.

Everyone filtered home, leaving Kat and me in the living room with a Billy Holiday record playing. A strand of twinkle lights glow along the windowsill. We're lying on opposite ends of the couch, nursing the last of the batch of rosemary and gin sparkling lemonade she made.

There were multiple trips to the market over the course of the night.

"I should go to sleep," I say for the fifth time even though I make no motion to do so. I don't object when she pours the last inch of sparkling lemonade in my glass.

"You never told me who you'd ship."

"You first," I say.

Katya's uncharacteristically quiet and then she says, "I've never been in love."

I file through all of the guys she's been with, searching my memory for that glimmer, that knowing, the glowing... Nothing. "But you've had crushes," I say.

I feel her shrug from the other end of the couch. "Not really. I don't let myself go there."

"Why?" I ask in a small voice, afraid her answer is like mine.

"I've never told anyone this." Her voice is sleepy, but she continues anyway. "When I was little I caught my father cheating on my mom."